Better Learn How To Run Before You Walk
by dearmrsawyer
Summary: Wee!Chesters. The first time the brothers ever saw a demon. To the prompt: "Ice cream".


**Better Learn How To Run Before You Walk**

It all began at an ice cream stand.

Dean hadn't seen much of evil's face, but he knew a hell of a lot more than Sammy, who still saw the world as some semi-Disneyland, due to no help from his father and all the effort a big brother could give. Dad sure hadn't told Sam about the real world out there, the one he faced every damn day, and Dean sure wasn't going to open the door. And even when evil invited itself in, Dean would slam the door in its ugly face, because Sam deserved the innocence he'd never have.

***

Sam runs across the green park, eyes wide and mouth upturned. He passes children and parents, ignorant of all but one man: the man behind the ice cream counter.

Dean catches up to his little brother, finally realising that four is not too young to be fast. Sam stares at the flourescent poster of ice creams and ice blocks like he's just found heaven's door. Dean eyes the stand critically – taking in its four wodden legs, two back wheels, temporary roof and extensive freezers in the back – and decides its good enough.

"That one!" Sam prods the picture of a chocolate ice cream with his chubby fingers, smiling up at Dean.

"What'll it be, little man?" A middle-aged man with a developing beer gut appears from behind the counter in a dirty apron, and Sam's ecstasy seems to double at the sight of him.

"We'll have one chocolate, and one strawberry, thanks"

"Coming right up," he nods, turning his back to them and beginning to rummage through the freezers. With a quick sideways glance, Dean can see that Sam is practically on the verge of squealing. He can't suppress his own grin.

"Airhgt. Chocolate for the little man, and strawberry for you, sir," the man says, handing each brother their own selection. Sam mumbles a shy thankyou and immediately begins investigating a way into the wrapper. Dean pays the man, gives his thanks, and steers Sam towards a park bench, where they can sit.

"Come on Sammy; give it here." Dean leans a firm hand on his brother's shoulder, sitting him down and taking the ice cream to open it for him. Sam accepts it back glady, beginning to devour his treat. Dean chuckles and starts on his own. He's glad he brought Sam out today; Dean spares a glance for his sibling, who is already covered in his snack. Dad would never have brought them out of the hotel room, and he certainly wouldn't have offered them ice creams. Dean ss glad to take respnsibility for the outing, though. He would never admit it out loud, but his goal each day is to earn a smile of admiration from his little brother, and to know he's giving Sam the fun a child deserves.

A combination of the arid heat and the end of his ice cream pulls Dean from his daydream. He turns to check on Sam's progrss. His eyes land on an empty bench.

Dean is up before his heart rate has the chance to double, head whipping from side to side frantically. There are children everywhere, countless little boys with brown hair. Panic begins to take up permanent residence in Dean's chest and he drops his ice cream wrapper, ignorant of the bin beside him and disapproving calls of the elderly woman passing by. His head snaps back to the ice cream stand for a moment; his heart just about bursts from the combination of recognition and relief. Sam's brunette mop stands out beneath the stand.

In an attempt to allow his heart a chance to regain its normal rate, Dean calmly makes his way over to Sam, who seems to have found the man that just sold them their ice creams. He is stacking crates beside the stand with his back to Sam. Dean can already read the request for seconds on Sam's lips before they part. The man jumps, startled. As he spins to face Sam, Dean almost dies of shock for the second time that day.

The man's eyes are the purest, the empitest of black. Dean has never before seen eyes like that, but he's only ever heard of it occuring in one situaton.

Little Sam froze, mouth agape and eyes unblinking. The man snarls, an animalistic edge to him, straightening to his full height. He towers over the young Wincheser, whose feet are planted in fear. The man takes a slow step forward, his eyes darting around to ensure he isn't seen, when a hot, searing pain envelopes his lower back. He rears in agony, throwing his head back. Something warm grasps Sam's hand and next thing the small boy knows, he is being dragged away by Dean, who has him in one hand, a small, metallic flask in the other.

Dean throws a glance over his shoulder and sees a steaming figure back at the now-distant ice crean stand. To be sure they are safe, Dean plunges them directly into the crowd of children surrounding the playground. Even if the Winchesters are being followed, it will be damn near impossible for them to be tracked through the mob as they escape out of the other side, heading for their hotel.


End file.
